In the Face of Death
by GoddessApostle
Summary: It's not often that you see your death coming. (AU, canon divergent. Character Death. Language.)


It's not often that you see your death coming.

Of course, as a meister, she's willing to lay down her life for the common people – and Soul is willing to go even further for her. But it's honestly shocking when your killer is someone you could trust, someone who's saved your ass before.

Betrayal is a bitch.

Nighttime is a bitch.

Hell, _all_ of Death City is a bitch. If it didn't twist in on itself to confuse people, she might find some help. If she hadn't forgotten a major ingredient in tonight's dinner, she wouldn't have even left the house. But _nooo_, she had to run out in the middle of the night for the fucking milk because she couldn't be bothered to remember.

Fuck this city and fuck Justin Law.

The back alleys are so confusing, even for a resident. She goes left and right and left and straight and right again but never gets anywhere. She still can't find a road. She still smells like trash. She still doesn't have any milk. She screams her rage to the stars, but they don't care. They never do.

"Maka," Justin says, creeping through the shadows behind her. "You're trying to run, aren't you? Shouldn't you be quiet?"

It doesn't matter. Her blood trail must be a mile long by now. She's not sure how much longer she can keep going – her head already swims with the blood loss. It won't quit bleeding, the wound on her stomach. She's scared to take her hands off it for fear her intestines would fall out. But she'll be damned if she doesn't fight.

She's going to give this bitch a run for his money.

She takes off again, sprinting for the light. Justin stays behind her, a cat chasing its mouse, toying with her as she runs herself ragged. She considers running through a door – _any_ door – but most are bolted shut this time of night and those that aren't belong to regular houses, and she's not about to bring innocents into this fight.

Her lungs struggle to take in air. Did he puncture one? No, if anything her own ribs did – she wasn't able to dodge _all_ his attacks; he landed a few kicks while she tried to avoid his blades. It was a surprise when she heard them – it didn't even register that he'd transformed at first. It was only after the blade connected with her shoulder that she realized what was happening. Even that was an accident – she turned around to ask why they were so deep in the alleys, and he missed her neck.

She tried to fight him.

She lost. When he split her stomach open, she finally ran. Not that it would get her anywhere. She still running, and he's still chasing. Except the scuff of his shoes against concrete is gone now. He's not running after her anymore.

_Oh_. It's because she's not running anymore. Her legs finally gave out, and now she's kneeling in the dirt, a lamb waiting for slaughter. At least she's going to face her demise – when she sways forward, she catches herself with one arm stick-straight against the ground. Her other hand doesn't leave her stomach – she's still scared of her guts falling out, as ridiculous as that is. Already on her deathbed, panting and trembling, just waiting for the final blow.

Her fist clenches in the dirt.

His footsteps are calmer as he comes to stand behind her. His shadow towers above her, and he shivers under his gaze – there's so much bloodlust, and she's not even sure why. She takes a deep breath – this is going to hurt.

"This is the end, Maka," he says. "Any last words?"

"What a fucking cliche," she grits out.

That annoys him. His shadow raises its arm, then comes down on her neck.

She throws herself to the side before it connects, though, and tosses a handful of dirt into his eyes. It can't save her, she knows – there's not really anything that can at this point. But it puts a smile on her face when she hears him sputter and growl, and even when his clamps bind her arms and legs, she laughs.

Her vision blurs, she's lost a lot of blood. But she still focuses her eyes on him, on his face, and she spits. "Fuck you," she tells him. Then she laughs. She laughs and laughs, and doesn't stop.

Maybe he won't notice the tears if she laughs.


End file.
